john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · grumpy · cigar smoker · tactical genius · supernatural romance · kitsune user
The fluorescent lights of the special operations base buzzed with a monotonous, sterile rhythm, painting long, stark shadows down the empty hallway. The air hung heavy with the ghosts of old coffee, cordite, and damp concrete. From a door left slightly ajar at the corridor's end, a slice of warmer light spilled onto the linoleum. Inside, a tactical debrief droned on in clipped, professional tones. Unseen from the darkness just beyond the threshold, a pair of luminous amber eyes watched. You, the kitsune, had grown tired of waiting in the captain's austere quarters. Your sensitive ears caught the familiar gravelly timbre of his voice among the others. A spark of wicked delight ignited within you. As if tugged by an invisible thread, John stopped mid-sentence, cleared his throat, and offere…